


London's Calling

by tracy7307



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, M/M, Sex Pollen, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 17:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19430839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracy7307/pseuds/tracy7307
Summary: Billy sniffed the air again. “Do you not -- thatsmell. Do you not smell it?”Steve closed his eyes and breathed in sharply through his nose. When his eyes opened again, his pupils were dilated, and when he spoke, it was almost a hiss. “Yes.”They followed the scent down an alley, the wall going from white to yellow to grey the further away they walked from the gas lamp. To everyone else’s eyes the alley was dark and nefarious with long shadows and hidden threats -- but Billy could see perfectly, his eyes as sharp in the dark as they were in the light when he was human.The source of the smell stood twenty feet away -- a man who was holding a struggling woman, her cries muffled by his hand clasped over her mouth.Billy’s fangs slid down, and he could hear Steve’s descend as well.





	London's Calling

**Author's Note:**

> "sex pollen", for these two vampires, is actually just AB negative blood, something rare that ends up driving them into a frenzy.
> 
> This is an continuation of [Only Boyfriends Left Alive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365952) verse, but this fic can stand alone.

Billy _loathed_ returning to London. It had been twenty-two full years since he’d last been in the godforsaken city, in 1801, and all the rest of years of his existence could tick by and he’d happily never set foot here again. The streets still had a dirty greyish-black hue, smelled of pollution, stale beer and urine, and the noise overwhelmed Billy’s hearing, even at night. Even at three in the morning some souse would wobble down the street, slurring his words and bleating _Hey down Derry, drink and be merry_ in a thick Cockney accent. Billy could try covering his ears, but with his sensitive hearing, there would be no point. 

He missed home. He missed the countryside and his quiet life with Steve at their small estate away from prying eyes and gossip whispered behind hands gloved in French satin. They were lived quietly at night, where only rolling hills and forests surrounded them -- the noise of man kept far at bay. They could sustain their need for blood among the small population of locals, rotating between them -- since it had been over a hundred years since they’d been turned, their appetites settled and were nowhere near as voracious as that first decade. Now, just the tiniest feeding every fortnight would suffice.

Every one of those nights ended with Billy looking the person deep in their eyes and telling them they simply had a lovely evening with small ale and talk of politics or news from abroad, and they smiled vacantly and nodded at him, fully under his spell, while Steve stood behind their shoulder licking blood from his lip. 

Steve had to meet with a lawyer, though, to sign some paperwork regarding the estate. The lawyer stated in his letter that he _didn’t travel well_ and needed to see Steve in his office in London so that he could continue their business. With luggage in tow, they took the bumpy road to London, and a neighbour several guineas richer drove their carriage with instructions to not disturb them during daylight hours. 

Billy hated their miserable little rooms in the centre of Covent Garden. Everything felt tight and contained compared to the wide open spaces to which he’d grown accustomed. Steve certainly wasn’t amused by Billy’s moodiness. “Mind that sour attitude, Billy. It’s not like I want to be here any more than you. You’re only serving to make us both miserable, so please. Try and find _something_ that you like about this place.” 

Billy leaned over and placed his hands on Steve’s knees and placed a tender kiss to Steve’s lips. “I like _you_ , my heart.” 

Steve smiled, but then pushed Billy back. “There are many more prying eyes here, darling. We need to be guarded with our affections.” 

Approximately three hundred biting comments rolled onto Billy’s tongue, but for the sake of his beloved, he held them all back. “Fine. I’ll _try_. No promises, though.” 

“That’s all I could ask.” Steve walked to the window and took in the London night, lit by gas lamps below. Billy felt the lamps were garish and crude, but Steve seemed to be enchanted. 

Steve always was one to make the best of things. From the moment they were bit and endured a harrowing transformation, he insisted it was so that their love could endure the annals of time -- Billy loved his romantic soul. 

The next evening, Steve scrambled to prepare himself and leave for the lawyer’s office right after sundown (which was quite easy to do considering the pollution worked in their favor in this city). Billy accompanied him and watched as Mr. Owens required Steve to sign line after line, documents detailing entailments and accounts. Mr. Owens had, quite recently, been the subject of scandal and was caught in the crossfire of battle at a local laboratory. The resulting leg injury was why he could not make the journey to the countryside. 

No one seemed to want to release the details of that battle. The newspapers made no mention, and gossip about it was vague at best -- then again, Billy and Steve always required Owens to keep their private matters to himself, and he always complied and never questioned, so they paid him well, which seemed to seal his lips when it came to their many years of boyish good looks and lack of wives and heirs. 

After the last page was signed and handshakes were exchanged, Mr. Owens made no sign of feeling slighted when they turned down a nightcap and saw them out as they left. He didn’t enquire as to their plans while they were in town or hold them up with any other inane smalltalk, and for that, they were eternally grateful. 

On the walk back to the hotel, Billy stopped and inhaled. He placed a hand on Steve’s arm. “What is it?” Steve asked. 

Billy sniffed the air again. “Do you not -- that _smell_. Do you not smell it?” 

Steve closed his eyes and breathed in sharply through his nose. When his eyes opened again, his pupils were dilated, and when he spoke, it was almost a hiss. “Yes.” 

They followed the scent down an alley, the wall going from white to yellow to grey the further away they walked from the gas lamp. To everyone else’s eyes the alley was dark and nefarious with long shadows and hidden threats -- but Billy could see perfectly, his eyes as sharp in the dark as they were in the light when he was human. 

The source of the smell stood twenty feet away -- a man who was holding a struggling woman, her cries muffled by his hand clasped over her mouth. 

Billy’s fangs slid down, and he could hear Steve’s descend as well. 

“Told ya three fuckin times, eh, ya bleedin harpy.” 

Billy pulled back on the man’s shoulder sharply and fixed him with a glare. Steve ushered the woman toward the alley’s entrance, letting her flee while the man hawked and spit on Billy’s shoe. “Mind yer own business, fucking tosser.” 

Billy smiled a toothy smile and ran his tongue over his fangs. “You’re going to be quiet and still now,” he said, and the man suddenly stopped speaking and froze in place. 

Steve returned and walked behind the man and sniffed the air by his neck -- his fangs were out and he looked like he was already _intoxicated_. “I’ve never smelled anything like it,” he said. 

Billy thought of a way he might describe the appeal if he were human -- like the smell of nutmeg and cinnamon in mulled wine on Christmas day. Like the fresh applewood burning on the fire. Like the heady smell of the forest after a long rain. 

“Do it,” Billy said to Steve over the man’s shoulder. 

Steve bit down on his neck, placed his lips over the wounds and his eyes slid closed, eyebrows knitted together. He hummed as he started to drink and blindly reached out a hand toward Billy -- Billy took it and Steve tugged him forward.

Billy waited, as he usually did, to drink from the same gashes. When Steve lifted up his head, his fangs were still extended, still covered in blood, and he looked -- well, Billy hadn’t seen him look like that in _decades_ , his eyes wild, his gaze piercing. 

Blood welled up from the wounds momentarily before Billy clamped his lips around the marks and sucked lightly. Steve’s fingers was still entangled with Billy’s when suddenly, Billy found his mouth filled with what surely could be described as _heaven_. Like sipping on the finest of wines, but a thousand fold more _intoxicating_. 

He gave only three pulls on the man’s neck and then felt _full_ , like he did after a large meal as a human, and ran his tongue over the gashes to heal them. He savored for a moment before Steve glanced over his shoulder and said, “We shouldn’t delay. Tell him about this night and let’s go.” 

Billy pulled back his fangs and ran his tongue over the blunt teeth in their place -- savoured the taste of this rare blood on in his mouth. He shook his head and focused. “You’ll not bother that woman again,” Billy said as he met the man’s eyes. “You got a little drunk tonight and wandered into this alley. Tomorrow you’ll feel the effects of too much ale and you’ll feel woozy and lightheaded. You should rest, and then consider becoming a better member of society.” 

As soon as Billy’s gaze broke, the man blinked and stumbled a bit. “Fuckin hell,” he said, and righted himself. “I’m soused.” He giggled and sat on the nearest stoop -- and that was where Billy and Steve left him. 

Their pace was harried as they made their way back to the hotel, and Billy felt like he was _vibrating_. Every pore of him wanted Steve’s hands, his mouth, his cock. If they could get away with it, he’d fall to his knees and take Steve in his mouth right in the middle of Trafalgar Square and let Steve shout to the heavens. 

Steve looked down at his shoes, frowning, and he must have been feeling the same way -- concentrating on not tugging Billy into the nearest alley. 

Finally they were able to lock the door to their room and Steve was _everywhere_ on Billy, his hands on Billy’s face, hair, ass, as he kissed Billy deeply, his tongue sliding into Billy’s mouth, licking against Billy’s tongue. Steve was moaning helplessly and Billy felt _angry_ that they weren’t already fucking.

Steve grabbed Billy’s ass and pulled his hips flush against Steve’s, and Steve’s cock was hard in his breeches, straining against the fabric, grinding against Billy’s. Over the years they’d learned to be careful with their garments, having lost too many to stains, and made sure to remove everything before pursuing their lust. 

Button after agonizing button they pushed, shoved, and tugged at their clothing until all that was left was their naked skin. “I can’t wait. I have to have you,” Steve panted as he leaned down to kiss Billy’s neck and his fingers slid between Billy’s cheeks, teasing over his hole, and Billy agreed -- his skin _sang_ with want of Steve. He was feverish and felt a slick sheen of sweat on his skin. 

“Fuck me,” Billy said, tugging up on Steve’s arms. “I need you to fuck me.” 

With fumbling fingers Steve dug in their case for the oil, popped the lid off with his teeth, poured some over his cock and stroked himself, slicking himself up, and Billy felt _frenzied_. He knelt on the bed and bent over. “Please, by everything holy, Steve fuck me _now_.” 

Steve’s hair was stuck to his forehead, damp around his temples with sweat, and he ran an oiled finger over Billy’s cleft and slid it up inside of Billy, and it felt _good_ but this was not what he needed. Tears streamed down the corners of his eyes. “ _Please_ , Steve, need your cock, I beg you,” Billy said. 

There was a blunt pressure against his hole and suddenly Billy was _filled_ as Steve slid in -- didn’t stop until he was fully seated, and Billy thanked the gods for this, for Steve’s cock satisfying this insatiable thirst, so much pressure, almost to the point of pain, but he felt like he’d never wanted anything more in his existence than to be fucked into kingdom come by Steve’s massive cock. 

Steve thrust once, and Billy jarred forward. “Harder,” he ground out, and reached down to stroke himself with one hand and braced the headboard with the other. He was rewarded with a sharp snap of Steve’s hips and his cock twitched in his hand. “God, my love, like that, please.” 

Drops of sweat dripped from Billy’s curls and he tingled everywhere, babbling, endless words of praise falling from his lips, and he didn’t shut up until Steve’s fingers found their way over his mouth and said, “My heart, we shouldn’t wake the neighbors.” 

But Steve still ravaged him, his thrusts driving him further up the bed, and Billy was nearly pressed to the headboard as Steve’s pace quickened. Billy felt tension in his groin and knew it wouldn’t be long. He stroked his own cock and then Steve pulled him up, his back flush to Steve’s chest, and with one more sharp snap of Steve’s hips, Billy spilled on the sheets under his knees, cursing. 

He felt the press of Steve’s fangs on his neck -- felt them piercing his skin a little when he came, fucking his way through his orgasm, sucking a few drops of Billy’s blood as he pulled out. 

Billy turned in Steve’s arms -- let himself be held and kissed, whispered words of endearments against his skin and Steve licked the puncture marks left on Billy’s neck. 

“What was that?” Billy asked after they’d cleaned up and Billy lay on Steve’s chest, toying with his chest hair. “What was so different about his blood? Did he have some sort of drug in him?” 

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think so. We would’ve known.”

It was true -- they could taste the chemical tang in the blood of those who’d taken medicine or drugs, those who had breathed in the dirty air of London for far too long. “He had a different type of blood, then.” 

“Mm. Probably rare,” Steve said as he toyed with Billy’s hair. “The way it made you _look_ , though, my love. I’ll forever be grateful of the image of you sweaty and begging for it.” 

Billy gave Steve’s nipple a light pinch, and he yelped. “You were just as desperate, if I remember correctly.” 

“I was,” Steve said. “Indeed, I was.” 

Before the sun rose, they checked to ensure the curtains were pulled tight. Billy fell asleep remembering the decades gone by -- the jeweled tones of the Mediterranean Sea. The orange trees of northern Italy. The first time Steve had fucked Billy, in the stables where Billy worked, long rectangles of slanted sunlight on the floor and the smell of straw and sex, after their goading and sneering had given way to healing and love.

**Author's Note:**

> [tracy7307](https://tracy7307.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


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